It Wasn't Her
by Depopulating
Summary: [AkuRoku] It wasn’t her dying for you. [One shot] [Rated for light sexual content]


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**XIII**

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It wasn't her who had her eye on you when you first arrived.

It wasn't her who followed Saix as he showed you to your room.

It wasn't her perched upon the white chairs, glancing at you in the corner of her eye as Superior spoke at the meeting.

It wasn't her pretending that she was listening, but instead staring forever at you.

It wasn't her who sat next to you, a few feet above you in the high thrones.

It wasn't her grinning at you for a couple of seconds every time you turned her way.

It wasn't her practicing moves out in the courtyard with you.

It wasn't her worrying over the fact that you two could be caught.

It wasn't her knowing that two nobodies could love.

It wasn't her bed that you stayed in night after night—getting lost in the constant sea and tug-o-war of the cold sheets.

It wasn't her resting her head upon your bare chest—hearing each time your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't her tongue that loved to explore the moist, delicious cave you call your mouth, pulling you in deeper.

It wasn't her yanking at your boxers, giggling at the way you blushed fully to crimson.

It wasn't her whispering calm words into your smooth, pale ear, reassuring you that everything would be alright.

It wasn't her that was listening to your moans, holding your arms down tightly just to gaze at those gorgeous blue oceans you call eyes.

It wasn't her going faster into you each time you screamed her name, providing the pleasure you were demanding for willingly.

It wasn't her curves that you couldn't help but stare at between heated moments, making you wonder how her skin could be so desired, so beautiful that you just _had _to fiddle with what little belly fat she had.

It wasn't her reaction to your touch—a kindhearted grin that seemed to bring another red hue upon your face—that made shudders run up your spine, causing you to arch your back.

It wasn't her scent that kept making you come back for more, savoring the fragrance of her mirror, fragile body each time you passionately kissed her.

It wasn't her who held you in strapping arms—cuddling, embracing, warming you as you both crawled into dream lane.

It wasn't her who greeted you with another wet slop that she called a kiss in the morning to brighten the rest of your day.

It wasn't her who threw your black coat back to your arms, inviting you down for a stroll in a certain city that never was.

It wasn't her who was secretly planning to take advantage of you once you two got there.

It wasn't her sighing each time you pounded on her arm as she leaned on the brick wall in the streets.

It wasn't her telling you she would be the only one to miss you if you ever left her.

It wasn't her biting her lip each time you pondered who you really were, because she knew.

It wasn't her that had to tell herself that your mind wasn't made up like you said it was; you would never leave even if you wanted to.

It wasn't her who pleaded that you couldn't leave for the organization, but it was really just about her.

It wasn't her pulling you back to her, pleading you to stay with her.

It wasn't her who had to be concerned about your dreams of wanting to acquire your identity.

It wasn't her bending over the dark alley of the city, clutching her stomach to hold back the emotions wanting to gush out of her.

It wasn't her allowing tears to pour from her eyes when you left—knowing that she could have stopped you if she had just tried harder.

It wasn't her who suddenly heard the strike of metal on metal, dragging herself out of hiding in the darkness.

It wasn't her who had to witness your limp, lifeless body being hauled into an unknown, mysterious dark portal belonging to another.

It wasn't her who came back for you.

It wasn't her who was told to either bring you back, or destroy you.

It wasn't her who found you in an unknown town—brainwashed and lost from all your memories.

It wasn't her who warned you of a future demise.

It wasn't her who had to deal with the fact that you didn't believe her… for the first time.

It wasn't her who had to confront you after such a long time, surrounded by a ring of Dusks in Twilight Town.

It wasn't her who perked up once you mentioned that you were best friends—best lovers, sending butterflies fluttering into her heart.

It wasn't her who craved, desired…_yearned_ to hold you once again in the warm of our embrace as she stared at you—a young, naïve boy.

It wasn't her who felt forgotten, passed, neglected—maybe even betrayed, when you couldn't recall your boss' name.

It wasn't her head that hung mournfully at your silence as you boldly stood before her.

It wasn't her who had to relive the sigh of defeat.

It wasn't her hands that had to hold two completely rotten, completely_ evil_ chakrams, knowing that they were to damage your soft, baby like skin.

It wasn't her who realized that maybe, just maybe, her lover could be a foe as you raised your key blade high.

It wasn't her strength that had to lift the red object in her hand, holding it up to strike.

It wasn't her eyes that stung as she found herself glancing at your familiar, innocent, cold blue jewels that were your own eyes.

It wasn't her nerves that were tempered with once she realized that you were suddenly gone in time; obviously Diz's doing.

It wasn't her who had to understand that you weren't the one you used to be—you were long gone from her control.

It wasn't her who had to bring back and remember the orders that were placed and given to her.

It wasn't her who had to stroll back to the mansion, meeting you there once again.

It wasn't her telling you who to trust—all she could tell you was: "You won't disappear."

It wasn't her who had to watch you encounter Dusks after beating up a computer.

It wasn't her who had to act like you two never met after the small battle, while inside she was being torn apart.

It wasn't her who had to handle the intense razor that sliced at her heart when you spoke her name.

It wasn't her who blew up emotionally.

It wasn't her who let the anger, hatred, and revenge pour from her insides as she screamed from the rage, gathering up as much power as she could.

It wasn't her who was forced to tell you that she was sick of waiting—you were too late.

It wasn't her who pushed herself to let the fires slap against your skin that she loved all too much.

It wasn't her who had to endure the pain that inflicted on you.

It wasn't her who had to, for the first time, cringe before you.

It wasn't her who had to accept her vanquish.

It wasn't her who had to hear your words, her name running out of your mouth again.

It wasn't her who couldn't help but give the slightest smile; how much she loved to listen to your voice.

It wasn't her who had to accept that you were missing from any hopes that you could return home… return to the organization… return back to her.

It wasn't her who was unsure if she could ever love another if it was forbidden.

It wasn't her who had to recognize that it was no longer you she was dealing with; it was your Somebody.

It wasn't her who had to steal, to capture his girl—someone she didn't even know.

It wasn't her who had to become an "acquaintance" of his, knowing that it would get you back to her.

It wasn't her who had to speak of you once again, knowing that it would lure the girl into your plans.

It wasn't her who finally caught his girl—only to get caught herself.

It wasn't her who had to go behind orders just to find you once again.

It wasn't her who had to roam the in darkness in search for him—for you inside.

It wasn't her who finally found him, knowing that if she led him further, she would have what she demanded for.

It wasn't her who suddenly felt the need to aid and assist him against the Nobodies surrounding around them.

It wasn't her who had to endure the pain of once pleasure.

It wasn't her who had to meet her demise by once ally.

It wasn't her who hadn't felt _any_ regrets thus far.

It wasn't her who sent all her powers flying off just to save the one that held you in his heart.

It wasn't her who sacrificed herself to rescue and free him, your Somebody, well aware that now, out of the rest of her life, she was doing the right thing.

It wasn't her who had to listen to his voice—your voice—as she faded away into eternal blackness.

It wasn't her who had to gaze up into another pair of divine duplicates of your eyes, savoring the memory in mind.

It wasn't her who strangely started to feel last regrets—but she knew that she couldn't erase anything from her past.

It wasn't her who realized that she didn't even have a past.

It wasn't her who looked up at him and heard the soft moans in her memories.

It wasn't her who wanted to touch you.

It wasn't her who wanted to kiss you one last time.

It wasn't her who tried to follow.

It wasn't her who felt lost.

It wasn't her who felt like a failure as a lover.

It wasn't her who missed you the most.

It wasn't Naminé dying for you—it was me.

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**VIII**


End file.
